Painted in Blood
by Amiyrasmom
Summary: John's in hospital after being shot. Sherlock's worried. Lestrade's stumped. Anderson's boring. And Sally just wishes they could solve the case. Classic locked room case. Honey 'Verse.
1. The White Room

**Disclaimer: Sherlock and his friends (well I say friends…) do not belong to me. Nor do I make any money from entertaining you. That's why my kids still go to public school.**

**A/N: I waffled for days while writing this on whether to tack it on the end of 'Homecoming' like I said I would or make it a story by itself. I finally decided to post it as its own story as I worked really hard on it. So, here you go. The next installment of the Honey 'Verse. Takes place immediately after 'Homecoming'. Let me know what you think of it.**

The White Room

The scene inside what used to be a white-walled room was in a word, gruesome, Sally decided. Even to her jaded cop sensibilities the room was something she'd only expected to see in second rate horror films. After being on the homicide division for nearly seven years she thought she'd seen it all but this was beyond her experience. And that fact nearly made her lose her lunch, again.

To quell the nausea rising as it had the other two times she been called to a similar scene in the past week she catalogued the scene in her mind. The room was bare, no furniture, no pictures on the walls, totally bare. It had only the one door and no windows. Every single wall, the floor and the ceiling were covered in blood. Not blood splatters, but completely covered. As though someone had taken a roller and painted the room with the blood of the victim.

The body of the victim itself lay in the middle of the room. As far as Sally could tell it was in the _exact_ middle of the room. The other two bodies had been so it followed that if this was the same killer then this body would also be placed carefully in the exact center. In the only spot that wasn't painted in blood. The carpet around the body was white. Shockingly white. As was the body itself. It had been completely drained of blood. What was that word? Exsanguinated. The whiteness of the carpet and the body lying on it drew her eyes to them as soon as they had unlocked the door.

Though unlocked may be the wrong word. Sure the janitor had the key but there had been a chain across it that could only be opened from the inside. How in God's name had this person been murdered? It made no sense. She hated cases like this. Complex beyond belief and nearly unsolvable. Which meant calling in the Freak because he loved cases like this. She hated calling in the Freak, even if he did help out and usually solved the case and caught the killer he was still a jerk that enjoyed airing her personal business to all and sundry.

From beside her she heard DI Lestrade sigh heavily. "Third one in less than a week," he mumbled. "Dammit!" He rubbed the bridge of his nose to prevent the oncoming headache.

Sally nodded and wondered briefly if he'd let her run out to the car for the paracetamol she kept in her purse for just this purpose. Hell, she'd give him whole damned bottle if he let her get away for the overwhelming stench of blood. "Don't you think it's time to call in the Freak, sir?" She asked instead.

Lestrade turned his entire body to look at her in surprise. "You're advocating in his favor?" He asked her incredulous.

Sally had never been more glad that her skin tone didn't lend itself to reddening. "Not advocating really. Just…he's good at this kind of thing. I look in here and see blood, lots of it and a body but he'd see…I don't know, the patterns in the blood that point to the killer. Why didn't you call him before this?"

Lestrade sighed again. "Dammit!" He cursed. "I can't call him. He's going through some stuff at the moment." His voice was low and reluctant as though he didn't want anyone else to hear him.

Sally felt her breath catch and her heart drop. "You mean that after five years clean he started using again?" She fought to keep her voice as low as his had been but she knew it didn't work well.

Lestrade's shoulders stiffened. "Why is that always your first thought? No. He's not using…at least I don't think he is." He glanced around for a moment and then pulled her to the side of the room away from the technicians and constables. "I swear as far as I know Sherlock is not using again…though he came close." He drew a breath and let go of her arm. "John was shot not too long ago." He told her plainly. "Sherlock's at the hospital with him and will be for a while yet. He was injured badly and it's going to take time for him to recover."

"Bad?" Her voice wavered. She'd never met the doctor husband but Lestrade spoke highly of him and the Freak was definitely in love with him. It was plain every time he spoke of Dr. Watson.

Lestrade only nodded with an audible swallow. "Very bad. Sherlock hasn't given me all the details but I have a friend that sent me some information that even Sherlock isn't privy too. John's heart stopped at least twice."

Sally covered her mouth to stifle the gasp.

"DI," Anderson called to him and he turned to face the other man with a grimace. "Where do you want us to set up?"

"You'd think he'd know the answer to that question by now," Lestrade muttered. "Wherever Anderson." He waved a hand dismissively as Sally snickered wanly. Lestrade turned back to her. "I don't want to call in Sherlock but I'm going to have to aren't I?"

"I think so, sir," Sally confirmed slowly. She didn't think it was a good idea either. Even if the Freak came he'd be distracted and worried about his husband.

"Dammit!" Lestrade cursed again and then started as the phone in his pocket buzzed. He pulled it out, opened the text message and then grinned. "Finish securing the scene and send me any information you get, Anderson. Donovan and I have something to do." He called over to the technician.

"What?" Anderson squawked.

"You heard me," Lestrade called back as he grabbed Sally's arm and pulled her through the PC's and techs. "We've got a meeting."

"Sir? Is everything all right?" One of the dark haired PC's called out.

Lestrade waved him off. "Fine, Davis," he answered. "Stay with Dr. Anderson. We'll be back later."

Lestrade let her arm go after they were through the crowd. She could still hear Anderson's grumbling and his orders but she gamely followed the DI to his cruiser. "What meeting?" She asked as she buckled the seatbelt.

Lestrade only grinned again, started the engine and tossed his phone into her lap. "Send him what I've got on there," he instructed.

Curious she checked the messages herself and then grinned and did as Lestrade had ordered.

_Bored. Bring case files to Sister Agnes Military Hospital. And Donovan._

_-SH_


	2. Armed Guards

**Disclaimer: Wanhhhhh! They're not mine! Wanhhhh! It's so not fair. Oh well, maybe I'll be able to kidnap them later though that's a scary thought. I'll come up with a plan later. Then I can ransom Sherlock and John so that I can have the money I don't make from writing these stories. Lestrade doesn't get a ransom note though. Him I'm keeping.**

**A/N: Okay, once again I am not British so thanks to those of you who pointed out that my information on the spelling of sergeant was out of date. I don't remember where I found that spelling except that I used a google search. If there are any other mistakes please let me know. And I love reviews so I'll take those too. **

**To Guest: Thanks for the review. I appreciate it.**

**Armed Guards**

By the time they reached the hospital Sally had her breath back and her stomach settled. She still didn't really understand why the Freak had asked for her specifically and DI Lestrade's explanation of "It's Sherlock" didn't help any. Still it would be interesting to meet the husband.

She was also uneasy about leaving Anderson in charge of the scene. It wasn't that she was worried that he couldn't handle it but that new PC, Davis, made her feel uncomfortable. To be honest, if only with herself, any new PC made her nervous. The fact that this one had been recommended by Anderson only compounded the feeling.

Sally could read the dread on Lestrade's face as he stared up at the building before them through the windscreen. She wondered briefly if her own nervousness was just a reflection of Lestrade's. "The doctor is alright, isn't he?" Sally asked.

Lestrade turned to her with sorrow filled brown eyes. "He should be," he answered. "But his career in the military is over. He won't like that. John's one of those people that has to be helping others. He's not going to assimilate well in London. Stupid bugger thrives on action."

Sally hid a smile. Dr. John Watson wasn't the only one that liked a bit of action. "Well, he is married to the Freak, sir," Sally pointed out. "I think that would be quite enough action to be getting on with."

Lestrade flashed her a quick grin and nodded. "Perhaps. Though he's been dealing with Sherlock all his life so…And don't call Sherlock a freak in front of John. He'll not be happy."

Sally only shrugged. "He'll get used to it."

Lestrade sent her a reproachful look and opened his door. "Well, come on, Donovan. Let's go see if Sherlock's figured anything out from those photos."

Sally nodded and exited the car before following Lestrade into the building. She frowned when the security guards or military police simply waved them through. They should have at least checked their ID's.

"Excuse me," Lestrade said to the nurse at the information center. "Could you direct us to Dr. John Watson's room?"

The woman gave him a bored look. "We don't have a John Watson registered here, sir. The directory for the doctors is on that board," she waved to a wall behind her. "No John Watson. Must have the wrong hospital."

Sally could feel the heat of Lestrade's glare even though she stood behind him. His phone buzzed in her hand and seeing as he was occupied she opened the text.

_Room 417. Hurry up._

_-SH_

"Sir?" She piped up. "I've got the room number."

Lestrade turned away from the nurse at the desk and motioned Sally to precede him to the bank of lifts. "Excellent."

Sally shook her head and a small smile tilted her lips for a moment before she turned into the lift and pressed the button for the fourth floor. This was going to be an interesting visit. The Freak was probably bored out of his mind, Lestrade had been tense all week and now she knew why. She knew that he thought of Dr. Watson as a good friend and he hadn't told anyone at work that the other man had been injured. She could understand keeping his private life private but she would have liked to have known earlier that the man had been shot.

She may not have ever met the doctor but she could respect him. He was after all apparently happily married to the Freak and anyone that could put up with that man for their entire life deserved some credit. Plus she had great respect for anyone in the armed services. They risked their lives day in and day out to protect people they'd never met.

"The fourth floor?" Lestrade questioned her. "That means that John isn't out of the woods yet."

"Pardon?" She asked as she looked over at him.

"Fourth floor's critical," he told her. "Only one step down from intensive care. That means that John's doing better but they're keeping a very close eye on his condition."

Sally's jaw dropped in astonished bewilderment. "How do you know these things, Lestrade?"

Lestrade looked down and rubbed at the back of his neck, his ears turning a light pink. "Well, when one of your best friends is a soldier you just kind of pick things up." He mumbled.

The lift stopped and the doors opened before Sally could pick her jaw up from the floor but she stumbled out after him. "417, sir," she told him faintly. Dr. Watson was his best friend? She hadn't known that either. She was beginning to wonder if she knew the DI at all and she'd been working with him for years.

"ID please?" A man in a black suit with shockingly bright red hair greeted them at the door of room 417.

"Pardon?" Sally found herself confused again. Just who was Dr. Watson? How did an army doctor rate an armed guard in a hospital?

Lestrade flashed his badge and shot her a smirk. "Just show the man your ID, Donovan. You can ask all the questions floating around in your head later."

Sighing she did as bid and flashed the black suited man her badge before leveling a steely look at Lestrade. "This is the brother's doing, isn't it?"

Lestrade only snickered with a shrug. "Most likely."

"You only just missed him ma'am," the guard said. "He's been here every day, in fact. He only left about ten minutes ago." His lips quirked up in a small smile. "Irritates Mr. Sherlock a lot."

"It would, wouldn't it?" Lestrade snickered some more. "Those two take sibling rivalry to a whole new level."

The guard blanked his face back to impassiveness. "I couldn't comment on that, DI Lestrade," Sally could hear the humor he fought to suppress. The guard reached back and knocked on the door to the room. "Your visitors are here, Mr. Sherlock." He announced.

"Finally," Sally heard the Freak's voice explode from inside the room and then rapid footsteps. The door opened with a whoosh and the Freak's head poked out. "Took you long enough, Lestrade. Did you stop to get a kitten out of a tree on the way?"

Shaking her head and knowing that the Freak was going to be in rare form from his boredom Sally followed Lestrade past the guard and into the hospital room.


	3. Introductions

**Disclaimer: Sherlock and his friends, archenemies, colleagues, coworkers and family are not mine. Yet. Unfortunately and I make no money off their adventures.**

**A/N: If you see any mistakes please let me know. My son and nephew are home on Spring Break this week and have a habit of breaking my concentration. Other than that enjoy the story. **

Introductions

"Where's the files, Lestrade?" The Freak demanded before the DI and Donovan were even fully into the room.

"You said to hurry," Lestrade scolded. "What makes you think I took the time to stop at the Yard and grab the files?"

The Freak merely rolled his eyes and held out a hand. "You didn't stop to pluck a kitten from a tree, Lestrade," he scoffed.

"Be…nice, Sher…lock," a quiet male voice came from the bed situated in the middle of one of the walls of the room.

The Freak immediately strode to the side of the bed. "I'm always nice to those that deserve it, John."

The DI snorted in mirth and Sally couldn't stop the wry smile. She was shocked though. Whatever she had been expecting of the Freak's doctor/soldier of a husband it wasn't this man. She studied the man on the bed intently while the DI greeted him. He was small, especially compared to the freakishly tall Freak and Lestrade. He was also rather ordinary looking. If she'd ever given any real thought to what the Freak would be attracted to it would have been someone striking but Dr. Watson would easily blend into nearly any crowd.

Hazel eyes dull with drugs and pain captured hers. "You must…be Sgt. Don…ovan," the man on the bed addressed her. "It's good…to finally put…a face…to the name."

Sally stepped a bit closer to the bed and forced a smile onto her face. "Yes, I am. And it's a pleasure to meet you at last as well, Dr. Watson."

Those hazel eyes left her for a moment and looked over at the Freak. "Go play…with your crime…scene, Sherlock. I want…to talk to…Sgt. Donovan."

"Don't tire yourself out," the Freak scolded. "You only had surgery this morning and you're still weak." Then he pulled Lestrade across the room to a table with chairs and a laptop set up on it.

"Surgery?" Sally asked as she stepped up to the side of the bed.

Dr. Watson nodded and waved a hand towards a chair near the bed. "Make yourself…comfortable. They'll be awhile."

Sally pulled the chair towards the bed and sat where they could easily see each other. "They usually are," she commented with a nod towards the duo engaged in a heated discussion over some photos Lestrade had pulled out of the file.

Dr. Watson snorted a bit and drew a deep breath. "Ow." He said quietly. "Please don't make me laugh. It's a bit…painful just now. I'm Doctor slash…Captain John Watson-Holmes, by the way." He stuck out his left hand for her to shake.

Sally took the hand gently and gave the man a friendly smile. "Sergeant Sally Donovan, New Scotland Yard."

Dr. Watson grinned at her and she suddenly understood some of what the Freak saw in him. The grin was open and friendly as though inviting her to join in his amusement. When he smiled like that she forgot that he was short and unremarkable. With that smile he became charming and handsome. Sally cleared her throat attempting to throw off the sensation. "So…I'm assuming you're the reason I'm here?" She tried.

"Mmm," he made a sound of agreement. "I wanted to meet you. Wanted to meet…Anderson too, but Sherlock…wouldn't allow him here." He grinned that boyish grin again.

Sally couldn't help but snicker. "I would imagine not. They can't stand each other. I think the Freak hates Anderson more than anyone else on the planet."

The smile faded from his face and he gave her a hard if slightly dazed look. "Why do you call him that?" He asked her in genuine curiosity.

Sally flushed a bit but shrugged. "When he first started working on the crime scenes the DI told us a bit about his past drug use and then asked us not to call him a junkie. At first I called him a freak because he annoyed me. Now it's because he's so bloody tall and because no one should be able to do what he does. I don't like him and make no secret of that but I can respect what he does."

Dr. Watson cocked his head to the side and studied her for a moment and then nodded. "He is freakishly tall," he agreed. "The name doesn't…bother him and I…thank you for not calling…him a junkie. That would have…grated on…him. And I feel I should…thank you for the…honey incident last year."

Sally quickly shook her head. "No need. Anderson was being an arse that day. I only prevented the freak from killing him. Didn't need the paperwork."

Dr. Watson snickered and then gasped in pain. "Ow. Owowow. I told you…not to make…me laugh, Sgt. Sally," he scolded breathlessly.

"John?" The Freak asked already halfway back across the room to them. "You should take the pain medicine. You've met Donovan, now. There's no reason to keep being stubborn."

Dr. Watson shot him an irritated look. "I'm not…finished speaking…to Sgt. Sally, Sherlock. I'll take…the pain meds…when they leave…promise."

The Freak gave him a disgruntled look but walked back over to the now paper covered table. Sally watched them for a moment before turning back to Dr. Watson. "Why did you want to meet me?" She asked as she surreptitiously inched her hand towards the self-medicate button resting on the bed by Dr. Watson's legs.

Dr. Watson tore his eyes from his husband and looked back at her face. She rather liked that. Most men wouldn't look her in the eye. They were far more interested in other places. "I wanted to…thank you…and give you a bit of advice."

Sally arched a brow. "Oh?" Her hand crept closer to the button but Dr. Watson's eyes never left hers.

"I don't want…to offend you…but I felt…that I needed to tell…you this," he paused for a breath. Her fingers tapped against the controller and she secreted it in her palm. "Anderson is most likely…going to cheat on…you as well, you know? You're far too…smart to fall…for his traps. If he'll cheat with you…on his wife…what's stopping him…from cheating on you…with someone else?"

Sally's eyes widened and she stared at him. His hazel eyes were pain filled but sincere all the same. "Nothing," she finally whispered and pressed the self-medicate button once. "I hadn't ever considered…"

"Now you will," he told her. Then his own eyes widened. "You're as bad…as Sherlock. You hit the…button."

Sally nodded. "No need for you to be in pain, Dr. John. I thank you for the advice and I'll think about it but you need to rest now."

John gave her a half-hearted glare and then his eyes fluttered closed and he fell asleep. Sally put the control back on the bed by his legs, stood with a stretch and went to join Lestrade and the Freak.

The Freak watched her approach and nodded at her. "He's stubborn as Hell, Donovan. I've been trying to snag that controller for an hour."

Sally patted his shoulder, the first time she'd ever voluntarily touched him, in a comforting gesture. "He's used to your sneaky ways but not mine."

The Freak nodded and turned his attention back to the files on the table. Lestrade gave her a grin and a nod before the three of them set to work.


	4. Vents

**Disclaimer: Sherlock and company are not mine nor do I make any money off of writing about them. Duh. By now everyone should get this.**

Vents

Sally made herself as comfortable as she could in a hard plastic hospital chair and regarded the Freak with a serious eye. "Why'd they operate on him this morning? And his shoulder doesn't look shattered."

"One of the blood vessels in his shoulder was bleeding again. The doctor that operated on him in Afghanistan did a quick job of patching him up so they could get him home and so some of the vessels were still bleeding. And his shoulder isn't shattered. His medical report says it is but again that's just shoddy work on the part of the doctor in Afghanistan. The bullet went through his scapula and created a hole and some fracturing around the hole but didn't shatter the bone." The Freak told her.

Lestrade whistled under his breath. "He was very lucky."

The Freak nodded. "Yes he was. Now then can we get back to the reason you're here? You do have a murderer to catch do you not?"

Sally rolled her eyes. "So whatcha got then, Freak?" She asked.

He smirked at her. "The average adult human has about six pints of blood." He held up one of the crime scene photos. "It would take quite a bit more than six pints to cover that room thoroughly."

Lestrade pulled some papers across the table and started rummaging through them. "Where is it?" He muttered to himself. "Aha! The techs figure it's half paint and half blood with a bit of paint thinner thrown in to make DNA identification impossible."

The Freak nodded as though he'd expected that answer and perused the photos again, and then his eyes lit up. He looked up at them with that smug knowing look that Sally really hated. "Have you checked the air vents in the rooms?" He asked.

Sally sat up straight in her chair. "Not really," she answered. "They're too small for someone to fit through, aren't they? Unless it was a small, very small, child. And a child could not have killed them."

"How could you not see this?" The Freak exploded into motion as he leapt from the chair, a nice overstuffed cushy chair Sally noted, and began pacing. "It's so obvious."

The DI groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sherlock," his voice was tired and wary. "It is not obvious to us. Explain what you mean. And use small words so that those of us that haven't slept very much in the past week can understand them."

The Freak stopped his pacing and gave Lestrade a bemused look. "You could have come to me earlier." He pointed out in a pouting tone. "I've been bored all week."

Lestrade rubbed at the bridge of his nose again. "I reckoned that you had enough things to be going on with," he motioned to the bed where Dr. John lay. "Your husband for one."

The Freak snorted and rolled his eyes. "John is well aware of the Work. He has never even tried to put limits on it."

"That's cold, Freak," Sally commented. "He's lying there fighting for his life and you want to run off and leave him alone?"

The Freak merely arched an eyebrow at her. "I never said anything about leaving this room, Donovan." He turned back to Lestrade. "Have the forensics team check the vents at each location for scratches along the grates. Then check the ducts for DNA."

"Why?" Sally spluttered while Lestrade shook his head and sighed. "The air vents are too small for someone to crawl through."

The Freak sighed and gave her a pitying look. "So oblivious," he said. "Yes, the vents are too small for anyone to crawl through but they are not too small for a piece of wire or other similar instrument to be fed through and used to lock the door from the inside."

Sally's jaw dropped and Lestrade groaned before chuckling ruefully to himself. "Now why didn't we think of that?" He asked the room at large.

"Because you're all idiots, Lestrade," the Freak commented. "I cannot understand how you make it through the day with how little of your brain you use."

Sally shot him a withering look that he ignored as usual. "Listen Freak," she said furiously. "Just because you're some big shot genius doesn't give you the right to insult the rest of us. I don't see you out there every day slogging through the muck of the human race to try and put the bad guys behind bars."

The Freak snorted derisively. "That's because you look but do not see. All of you are so blind. So oblivious. You refuse to see what is right in front of you."

"Or maybe we see it just fine and we're tactful enough to keep our mouths shut, unlike some people who think they know everything," Sally leaned forward with her elbows on the table and spat the words in his face.

The Freak leaned forward with a scowl until their noses were almost touching. "Then why did you ignore the air vents, Sgt. Donovan? Because you wanted the killer to get away? I don't think even you are that heartless."

"I wasn't talking about the bloody air vents you smug son of a bitch!" Sally hissed.

"Oh?" Again the Freak cocked an eyebrow and sat back with a satisfied smile. "Then I presume you mean me airing your dirty little affair with a married man to the whole of the Yard?"

"Yes, you sanctimonious arsehole!" Sally cried. "What gives you the right to judge me?"

The Freak shrugged. "I wasn't judging." He stated calmly. "I was only giving voice to my observations. At least the first time. Now yes, I do judge. Anderson's an adulterous miserable little man and you could do worlds better if you let yourself. But you're too caught up in his poor me attitude to realize what a complete waste of skin he is."

Sally opened her mouth to give a stinging retort, then closed it abruptly and slumped back into her seat. "What?" She asked faintly, bewildered.

"You're smart enough to figure it out, Donovan," the Freak said in a bored tone.

"Children," Lestrade finally butted in. "That's enough for one day." He stood up. "Time to go, Donovan. We need to get back to the newest crime scene. I'll send you the files later, Sherlock. Tell John to get better soon."

The Freak nodded, his attention already back on the files spread out over the table. Sally cleared her throat. "Tell him I said thanks, Freak."

Grey eyes locked with her own brown ones before the Freak nodded again. Sally followed the DI out the door without another word.


	5. Another White Room

**Disclaimer: Not mine no matter how much I wish for them.**

**A/N: I'd apologize for how long it's taken me to update but I've been working and feeding my family is more important than updating my stories so there you have it. I do hope none of you are too irritated by my selfish need for my kids to eat but if you are then oh, well. I suppose I'll live through your disappointment. Anyway, updates are going to be only a few times a week for the foreseeable future as I will be working a lot now. I have to leave by six in the morning, drive eighty mile to work, then work for eight to ten hours and then turn around and drive home so I'll be quite busy. I will however update when I can. Well, on with the story then.**

Another White Room

Three days after their visit to the hospital Sgt. Sally Donovan and DI Greg Lestrade were once again staring at a once white room that was now painted in blood. Lestrade surveyed the scene with abhorrence, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. Sally glared at the scene as well with her arms crossed over her chest.

"What do you want me to do, Lestrade?" She asked.

Brown eyes shifted from the scene to her. "Go tell Anderson to come up," he said shortly. "I need him to bring his team and catalogue the scene. Then go see if this building has security cameras. If they do, get the tapes. Then you and I can canvas the rest of the floor. We can only hope that someone saw or heard something this time." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "You wouldn't happen to have any paracetamol, would you?"

Sally sent him a wry smile. "Yes sir. Paracetamol's in the car. Want me to grab it?"

Lestrade nodded. "After you send Anderson up here."

Sally turned away from the gory scene and made her way to the bank of lifts. She nodded to the PC guarding the doors to the lifts and hit the down button. "Sgt. Donovan?" The PC asked as she waited for the car to reach their level. Sally turned her head and took in the young dark haired man before her. Davis. Again. Why did he always seem to be on hand lately? Was he really that much of a suck up? "I heard the DI ask about paracetamol?" Sally nodded. "I carry some Anadin with me," he explained. "Want me to give him some?"

Sally nodded with a faint smile. Lestrade would refuse of course, Anadin made him sick to his stomach but it was nice of the PC to offer and if his headache was bad enough the DI would take it. "Thank you, Davis. He'll appreciate that."

The young PC flushed. "Well, I don't blame him for having a headache. Four murders with the same MO every time and no clues that will lead us to the killer is enough to give anyone a headache."

Sally murmured her agreement as the doors of the lift opened. She wondered a bit about that PC sometimes. He was always a bit too eager to help. Sally shrugged it off as the lift doors closed and carried her down to the ground floor where Anderson and his crew were waiting.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

The lobby was eerily quiet when Sally exited the lift. There was no one in sight, not even the constable that was charged with guarding the doors. Where had everyone gone? Anderson was supposed to be waiting for clearance for himself and his crew in the lobby and they weren't there.

"Buggering damn," she growled under her breath and looked around again as though hoping they were simply hiding in the shadows ready to pop out and surprise her. It wouldn't be the first time the forensics crew had played a prank on her.

A small sound off to the right of the marble room beckoned her and she quietly slid towards it. Only a few steps brought a shadowed alcove into sight and Sally stifled her gasp. Anderson was there with a light haired female constable. Sally closed her eyes and then opened them again. They were only talking but they were hiding and they were so close to each other.

_If he'll cheat with you…on his wife…what's stopping him…from cheating on you…with someone else? _Dr. John's words rang through her head and she cringed at the truth of them. But now was not the time to deal with her messy relationship issues. They had a job to do.

"Anderson!" She called. "Constable Avery, isn't it? Why are you not guarding the door?"

The two in the shadows of the alcove jumped apart as though they'd been burned. The blonde woman spun around and stared at Sally with wide, frightened blue eyes. "Sgt. Donovan? I was…Dr. Anderson said…I'll just go back to my post, ma'am."

"See that you don't desert it again, Avery," Sally scolded. "Anderson, the DI wants you upstairs yesterday. Get your crew together and get up there."

"Sally," Anderson started as Avery scrambled back to the front door.

Sally held up her hand, palm out in the universal 'stop' sign. "Don't want to hear it, Anderson. We have a job to do. Round your team up and get to it."

"Sally…" Anderson tried again and moved to put his arm around her shoulders.

Sally backed away from him. "I said not now, Anderson. We'll discuss this later. When we're not working. Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go find building security." As she stalked off she could feel his eyes following her. Damn Dr. John for being right anyway. And damn herself for ever thinking she could have a normal relationship.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

Three hours later Sally was starting to nod off and only the fact that she couldn't lean again the blood covered wall kept her from dozing as Anderson tried to impersonate the Freak. She almost felt sorry for him. Anderson had none of the energy and charisma of the Freak. Anderson's voice was a monotone as he reported what he'd found and he never moved a muscle. The Freak was always pacing around and waving his arms to emphasize his points. Really if he didn't insult them so much he'd be entertaining to watch.

Occasionally Anderson remembered to try to move like the Freak but it was a jerky, pathetic parody of the Freak's elegant movements and nearly made Sally snicker. She may not like the Freak but he was rather interesting to watch. Normally Sally found Anderson's attempts to act like the Freak brave and funny. Now that she had her eyes open she realized exactly how pathetic and jealous he was.

She took in the fascinated Davis and nearly sneered. Even before this morning she'd know that Anderson was acting. Davis appeared to be completely caught up in his dramatics. He'd been trying off and on to get Lestrade to take the Anadin but he'd refused. The DI had dry swallowed the paracetamol she'd brought him but he was already rubbing the bridge of his nose again. His headache was coming back and it would be worse this time.

"So," Lestrade interrupted, his voice slightly muffled from behind his hand. "What you've spent the last half hour telling me is that you have nothing we didn't already know?" His voice was a growl.

"Well," Anderson swallowed. "That's not exactly what I'm saying—"

"Sir?" Sally interrupted this time. "You do know that your mobile has been pinging text messages for the past ten minutes, don't you? Would you like me to answer it for you?"

Lestrade gave her a serious look and then shook his head. "You're not in the middle of anything are you, Donovan?"

Sally gazed at him confused. "No sir."

Lestrade suddenly smiled. "Good. I need you to go pick up a package for me."

"A package?"

"Yep. The texts want me to come pick up a package at Sister Agnes's and I can't exactly leave here right now. Would you mind going to get it for me?"

Comprehension brightened Sally's countenance. "Of course, sir. I'll head over right now."

Sally left the blood covered room quickly. She actually didn't mind being sent to pick up the Freak who was probably driving the staff and his husband nuts in his boredom. She knew that with his help there wouldn't be any more bodies found in white rooms painted in blood.


	6. Hospitals Again

**Disclaimer: They all belong to each other. Darn it! Not me. So not fair. How hard is it to kidnap someone anyway? I've never done it before but I am a quick learner. Is there an internet course on kidnapping? Someone let me know.**

**A/N: Okay, I just found out I'm going to be gone tomorrow and Sunday too so I won't have time to update except for today. So I'm going to finish off this story and hope you'll forgive me for not updating for so long and then disappearing for a few days for a second time. I know it sucks but well, I don't have much choice. Enjoy the story.**

Hospitals Again

"Good morning, Sgt. Donovan," the red haired guard greeted her at the door to Dr. John's hospital room.

Sally was already rummaging around in her pockets for her ID as she strode up the hallway. "Morning Agent," she returned as she finally found and pulled the badge out. "How's the doctor?"

The agent gave her a quick, amused smile. "He's feeling much better which means Mr. Sherlock's driving him to distraction. Mr. Sherlock's bored," he explained. "And he keeps trying to take blood samples and medications and just about everything except the kitchen sink so that he can experiment on them."

Sally arched an eyebrow. "Experiment on them?" She asked faintly.

The agent nodded and gave her a conspiratorial wink. "Yes, Dr. Watson's been arguing with him all morning. Which would be why he sent for you. To come take his husband off for a play date so that he could get some rest and go to his physio appointment without any interference from a bored genius."

Sally stifled her snickers and nodded to the agent. "Thanks." The agent knocked on the door and announced her.

The door wooshed open and the Freak glared at her. "Where's Lestrade?"

Sally scowled at him for form's sake and pushed past him into the room. "How are you, Dr. John?" She greeted the man on the bed.

John grinned his boyish grin at her. "Much better, thank you, Sgt. Sally. Have you come to kidnap my husband? I've no ransom money so you'll just have to keep him."

"Sorry," Sally grinned back. "He's a present for the DI. He'll have to decide whether to keep him or not."

"I am right here, you know?" The Freak whined.

"Oh, sorry Freak, I missed your six foot form that answered the door," Sally shot back. "I really didn't see you."

The Freak glared at her. "Where's Lestrade?" He asked again with a pained look for having to repeat himself.

Sally cocked her head. "At the crime scene. He sent me to pick you up."

"What?" The Freak squawked. "I can't leave."

"I asked Greg to come get you, Sherlock," Dr. John said. "You are driving me insane and in an effort to keep myself from simply beating your head in I asked Greg to come take you to the crime scene so that you would be able to help. And I'd rather you were there to watch his back."

"Watch his back?" Sally asked as the Freak nodded and picked up his coat. "Why does he need someone to watch his back?"

The Freak rolled his eyes but there was a small frown of concern on his face. "The paint thinner, Donovan."

"What?"

"Sherlock," John sounded alarmed suddenly. "If she's here and Greg isn't…"

The Freak's eyes widened. "Right. Come on, Donovan, I'll explain on the way." He grabbed Sally's arm and tugged her to the door. He paused for a moment and dropped her arm before spinning around and striding quickly back to the hospital bed. "I love you," he murmured and then kissed John hard. "Be back soon."

"Bring Greg with you," John called as they sped through the door.

"What about the paint thinner?" Sally asked as they rushed down the hallway to the lifts.

The Freak shot her a look. "It's of a type only used by New Scotland Yard." He told her and pushed the button for the lift.

"Which means…" she paused as suddenly it clicked. "Oh my God! Call Lestrade. Tell him not to swallow that Anadin!" She glared at the doors for an instant and then spun away and ran for the stairs. The Freak followed.

"Now I'm lost," he complained. "What Anadin?"

She didn't answer him until they were out of the building and climbing into Lestrade's police issued cruiser. "He had a headache and I was going to give him some of the paracetamol I always have on hand for him." The Freak reached over and hit the switch for the lights and sirens. "But one of the PC's said they had Anadin and so I told him to give it to the DI and then I came to get you. That PC was the same one that's been the first on scene for every one of these cases."

The Freak was already typing quickly on his phone. "I told him." He assured her.

The cruiser went up on two wheels as she sped around a corner and the Freak hurriedly strapped himself in. "Sorry," she muttered. "But Anderson's the only person there I can be sure of and he's a bit distracted at the moment."

The Freak shrugged and looked closely at her. "Finally caught on have you?"

She glared at him for a second and then turned her attention back to the road. It was strange but it seemed as though the traffic had suddenly thinned out and all the lights were green. She thanked whatever God of traffic there was and pressed harder on the gas pedal. "I hope he didn't take it already," she sighed.

"He wouldn't have," the Freak assured her. "Anadin makes him sick to his stomach so he'd wait until they were finished processing the scene to take it. Headache or not. You knew that though, which is why you carry paracetamol."

She nodded in relief. The rest of the ride, which should have taken at least twenty minutes but only took fifteen, passed in silence. Sally threw the car in park outside of the building where the crime scene was. They both flung themselves out of the cruiser and ran through the once again unguarded doors. "Avery!" Sally shouted. "Stop snogging Anderson in the shadows and do your damn job! Anderson! What the Hell are you thinking? You left the DI alone up there!" She never even slowed her pace as she shouted to the apparently empty room and led the way to the stairs. "This way, Freak," she called as she finally hit the doors to the stairs.

"Right behind you," his baritone said from over her shoulder. She could hear his footsteps behind her and for once was comforted by the Freak's presence. She threw open the door on the right floor and sped down the corridor to the proper room.

"Which one?" The Freak asked urgently as they ran up to the scene.

"That one," Sally pointed at a man standing next to Lestrade. "That's Davis." The dark haired man seemed to be trying to urge something into the DI's hand but Lestrade was shaking his head. "Don't take that, Lestrade," Sally shouted. Both men turned to gawk at her but the man behind her leapt at the PC in a flying tackle that would have made any rugby player proud. Sally rushed over ignoring the grunts from the forms rolling around on the floor and grabbed Lestrade's face between her hands. "Did you swallow any of that Anadin? Did you? Lestrade!"

Lestrade eyes were wide as he stared at her and then he blinked. "No," he said slowly. "Why? You know I can't stand Anadin, Donovan. What the Hell is going on?"

"He was trying to poison you because you were too close to finding him," the Freak puffed up at them. Sally looked down and nearly giggled. Somehow the Freak had knocked out PC Davis and bound him with his own handcuffs. The Freak had escaped mostly unscathed; he had a scrape on one cheek that looked like it would bruise in a spectacular fashion.

Sally offered him a hand up and he took it with a nod. "Nice tackle, Freak," she told him with a grin.

He nodded again. "John used to play rugby," he told her. "He taught me a few things."

She gave him a grin.

"What is going on in here?" Anderson squalled from the doorway. "What have you done to my crime scene, Psychopath."

Sally gazed over at him for a moment before she collapsed onto the Freak's chest giggling in a mixture of relief and hysteria.


	7. Wrapping Up

**Disclaimer: Not mine…still. Stupid Easter Bunny. I'm asking my dad for the rights to the characters of BBC's Sherlock for my birthday in June but I know he'll say no. Life is sooooo unfair. Still haven't found an internet course for kidnapping either. I'm pouting.**

**A/N: Last chapter of the story. I was shooting for 10,000 words but I didn't quite make it. Oh, well. Maybe next time. Hope you enjoyed it and let me know even if you didn't. Any plot holes should definitely be pointed out and if you have any suggestions I'll happily take them. So on with the story. **

Wrapping Up

"Care to explain?" Lestrade growled at the unlikely duo still lying on the floor of the hallway giggling.

Sally drew a deep breath to try and calm herself. "I'll let the Freak do his thing, sir, while I check on our suspect." She stood on shaky legs and crossed to PC Davis who seemed to have hit his head when the Freak had tackled him.

"Sherlock," Lestrade's voice was a warning wrapped in steel. "What the Hell is going on?"

"Well," the Freak drawled. "I would think that should be fairly obvious." Sally couldn't stop her snort of laughter as she locked the handcuffs tighter around Davis's wrists. "Sgt. Donovan is apprehending your killer."

Lestrade rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How did the two of you come to this conclusion?" He asked in a tired voice.

"Obvious," the Freak drawled again. "He was the first copper on scene in all four cases. Twice is explainable, but all four times?" Sally rifled through Davis's pockets and found a bottle of Anadin. She took one out and then closed the bottle. "He was also only just transferred to your team, Lestrade. Days before the first murder."

Sally handed the bottle of pills to Anderson. "Check those for poison, Anderson," she ordered. She walked over to the Freak and held out a hand to help him from the floor, again. They'd both collapsed in nearly hysterical laughter after she'd helped him up the first time. After he was standing she handed him the one pill she'd taken from the bottle. "Whatcha got, Freak?" She asked.

He arched an eyebrow at her and then lifted his hand to eye level. He stared hard at the pill, turning it over and over in his fingers and then sniffed at it. A scowl crossed his face and he handed the pill back to Sally. "Almonds," he said clearly. "Cyanide."

"That's impossible," Anderson blustered. All the blood drained from Lestrade's face. "Preposterous! I recommended Davis for the position on Lestrade's team. He's not a killer."

The Freak shot the irritating forensics doctor a glare. Then shifted his attention to the now moaning PC. "If you look into his records you'll find that he has experience as a house painter. He also has callouses on his hands from working with some kind of tool that requires steady hands and excellent hand eye coordination. The pills in his pocket are enough to get a warrant to search his flat and I'm sure you'll find the pole he used to lock the rooms as well as trophies from each of his victims."

"Bet it's their blood," Sally muttered. "Seems that'd be right up his alley," the look she shot Davis would have stripped paint.

"Hmm," the Freak hummed and then strode to Davis, knelt down beside him and grabbed his arm.

"Ahh!" Davis cried out in pain. The Freak pulled up the other man's sleeve to show off the small cuts along his arms.

"As I suspected," the Freak nodded. "He used the paint thinner to disguise the fact that he mixed his blood with theirs to make his artwork more personal."

"Like a signature?" Sally asked with a shiver. "Sick."

The Freak spared her a glance. "Why? Many artists use blood in their signatures. It's supposed to stop their work from being copied. Killian Brody is most famous for it in this century. He places a spot of blood to the right of his signature."

Sally wrinkled her nose. "Believe me I am aware. Ian's been marking his artwork that way since he was a kid. His fingertips look like a diabetic's."

"You know Killian Brody?" The question was shot out at her from four different directions. Lestrade asked with astonishment, the Freak with curiosity, Davis in awe and Anderson with irritation.

Sally shrugged. "We grew up next door to each other. He's a bit weird but then he's an artist so that only makes sense. He's a good guy to have for a friend though."

"We've gotten off topic," Lestrade said slowly. "Sherlock, Donovan, how did you know that Davis was the killer?"

"I didn't kill anyone," Davis protested. "I've been working with you this whole time! You should find out where that psychopath that assaulted me has been for the last two weeks! He's more likely to kill someone than I am."

Sally gazed at the Freak with a small smirk. "You know, for once, you're the last person I'd suspect, Freak."

"Sally?" Anderson's voice was filled with hurt and betrayal. "How can you say that? How could you possibly know he didn't do it?"

Sally ignored him and simply smirked at the Freak. He nodded with a smirk of his own. "I didn't kill anyone," he drawled. "Anderson you're an idiot. Obviously, Sgt. Donovan knows my whereabouts for the last two weeks. And we knew Davis was the killer because he was the first on the scene in each case, the paint thinner used is police issue, and he tried to poison you, Lestrade. You're all so blind." He huffed and turned to leave. "I need to get back to my husband now."

"Give John my best," Lestrade waved him off.

"Oi! Freak! Wait a second," Sally called as the Belstaff coat disappeared around the corner of the door.

That mop of dark hair popped back around the door jamb and piercing grey eyes caught hers. "You probably would have been better off sticking with Mr. Brody," he told her and then disappeared again.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Anderson growled.

Sally shrugged. "Means I won't be scrubbing your floors anymore," she told him and hauled Davis to his feet. "Let's get you booked and safely in a cell before Mrs. Lestrade finds out you tried to poison the DI."

Lestrade's face paled again. "No one tells Joanne until I have a chance to explain things to her," he ordered.

"None of us will say anything, sir, you know that," Sally assured him as she pulled Davis through the doorway. "But I can't promise anything about the Freak."

"He wouldn't. Oh, well, yes he would. John won't let him," the DI muttered as he pulled his phone out and started texting. "John will stop him. John had better stop him."

Sally covered her snicker with a cough. She thought she should feel worse about her break up with Anderson but couldn't stop the feeling that it was the first step on a road that led to an unparalleled happiness. Anderson was an idiot anyway.


End file.
